The Newsies' Love Triangle of 1899
by Cara Beatrice Green
Summary: Sequel to The Ghost of Newsies' 1899. Race likes Gabbs. But unfortunately, she doesn't feel the same way about him. But maybe with some quick wit and the ole switch-a-roo she might change her mind. Afterall, what could go wrong?
1. Act 1

**Act One: The Life of a Gambling Newsie**

I've been a gambler since the day I was born. It's in my blood. Before I was a newsie, my pop would take me down to the racetrack every Sunday. I loved it. The sound of the horses thundering their hooves against the dirt, the feeling of counting the dough in your hand, the sweet smell of Corona cigars. My mother walked out on us when I was 5, so my pop kinda had to learn how to raise me alone. But I think he forgot about the lesson where you don't pass your bad habits to your kids. I remember when he bought me my first cigar. The pride in his eyes, that was the last time I saw him happy. The bills started piling up but because my pop couldn't seem to quit throwing his money away at the tracks, none of them got paid. His friends, who were like my uncles, decided to distract me by teaching me poker and how to 'pick' the luckiest horse. But I could still feel that something wasn't right. When I was 10, the cops busted down the door of our apartment and hauled my pop off to the slammer. I still remember the last thing he said to me.

"Son, no matter what, don't give up on yourself. You're a smart kid, and unlike your old-man you're gonna make it in this world. I promise you'll be ok. I love you."

"Come-on, Higgins, quit your yapping and get in the van!" the sheriff said cruelly. "Grizzwald, grab the kid and take him to the orphanage." Grizzwald headed straight for me, but I dodged him and headed for the door. He grabbed hold of my arm and I pulled away and ran across the street. "Don't waste you're time, Grizzwald. If he wants to die on the streets, let him. He's not our responsibility." I watched as they drove away. I never saw my pop again.

I was alone and it was raining bad. I knew I had to find shelter quick or I'd be soaked. I spotted Jacobi's Deli and ran inside. The place seemed slow at the time and I parked myself at a lone table. I pulled out a deck of cards and started shuffling, figured I'd play solitaire to calm my nerves. About 3 games later, some guys walk in and stood at my table. I flashed a smile at their glaring faces.

"Evenin' gentlemen. Can I'se help ya's?"

"You're sittin' at our table, boy." one said.

"Yeah but, dere's 3 of ya's. Dis table seats 4." I protested. Another squinted at me as if he was trying to remember something.

"I know I've seen you before." He said before his eyebrows shot up. "You're Higgins' boy! Raymond, Raymond Higgins!"

"In da flesh."

"Heard you're dear-ole-dad got locked up." the first guy said "His debts finally caught up to him, huh?"

"... Yeah." I answered, remembering what happened only hours ago. "Who want's ta play poka?"

I woke up the next morning with back pain and a stiff neck. As I stretched to relieve the pain from my muscles, I glanced at the window and saw an older boy yelling at people as they passed by. Occasionally, someone would stop and give him a coin for the rolled-up paper in his hand. Then they would go about their way and he would take another rolled-up paper from the bag hanging across his shoulder. Curious, I walked out the door and asked him what he was doing.

"Sellin' papes. What's it look like I'm doin'?"

"Sorry, I was jus curious is all."

"Oh. Say what's your name, kid?"

"Raymond Higgins, yours?"

"What a mouthful. Jus call me Beaver; all da oddah' newsies do. On accountah my buck tooth"

"What's a newsie?" I asked.

"I 'spose da proper term is Newsboy. We sell newspapahs, papes for short." Then Beaver got a glint in his eye. "Whadda say I shows ya how?"

"Really?"

"Why certainly." Just then, a lady with a big, fancy hat walked by. "Watch dis." Beaver whispered. He cleared his throat and strolled up to her. "'Scuse me, miss. May I offer you da mornin' news?"

"Depends, what's the headline?"

"Perkins' Hat Shop Opens!"

"What!?" The lady screamed. "That's my favorite designer! Here's a nickel, just give me a paper."

"Of course miss. Pleasure doin' business wit ya's." He said as he handed her the pape. After she was out of sight, Beaver turned to face me. "She really fell for it!"

"Fell for what?" I asked.

"Da lie I made up about da headline."

"You mean dere isn't gonna be a new hat shop?"

"No way! Da real headline is somethin' about a vaudeville theat'ah openin'. But ladies aren't really into dat kinda tang."

"But why lie about it?"

"Ya do what you have to ta sell papes. Dat means sometimes ya gotta stretch da truth ta make da news sound more appealin'." Beaver looked at me as if an idea was forming. "Where ya live, kid? Ya goes ta school?"

"My pop couldn't afford ta put me in school. And now he won't be able ta afford anyting since he's in jail."

"Hmm, sorry ta heres about your fath'ah. You'se got a place ta stay?" I shook my head. "Well I gotta get back ta work, but if you head left an take a right at Eldridge Park, you'll end up at a place that can help ya. See ya round, kid." I followed Beaver's instructions and found myself at the Newsboy Lodge House. I was introduced to all the newsies and soon became one myself. Racetrack, or Race for short, was the name they gave me and I've been usin' it ever since.

 **I'm baaaaaaaack! So, what you guys think? Good, bad, ? … Let me know, ok. There's more to come, but this story will most likely be shorter than the first so yeah. Anyway, don't forget to read, review, follow, favorite! - Cara**


	2. Act 2

**Act Two: Back to the Present, Sort of**

"Extra! Extra! 'Blackout Stirs Citywide Confusion!'" I shouted at my usual selling spot. What a headline! We usually didn't get exciting news like this. Most of the time, we had to make stuff up to sell our papes. Boy, I've sold quite a few snoozers since I learned the trick of the trade from Beaver. You wouldn't believe the stuff I had to say just to earn a penny. Reminds me of the time we went on strike, as we were inspired by the trolley workers' story that had appeared in the headline. I'm glad we haven't had to sell the same story for three weeks like we had to that time. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. You see, back in the summer, Pulitzer raised our newspaper price and so we went on strike. At first, it looked like we would never win. There was even a time when Snyder the Spider made us think that poor Crutchie killed himself while at the Refuge, a jail for juveniles. But we discovered the truth, and through a series of events, we came out on top. We also gained friends. Though Les and Davey Jacobs had to return to school, we still stayed in contact through letters. Jack finally won himself a girl, Kathrine or Ace, as we now considered her one of us. And then there was Gabbs. Gabby Jones disguised herself as a newsie so we would accept her into our family. Why she didn't tell us she was a girl in the first place, I don't think any of us knew. Something told me that Crutchie might though. After the strike, those two were acting real buddy-buddy. Too buddy-buddy. Crutchie would sit down and eat the daily moldy bread and Gabbs would always sit next to him. He would whisper in her ear and she would laugh quietly as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. I would dismiss it as pure friendship. But there was always this little voice inside me that said otherwise. I should have listened to it. I mean Crutchie _kissed_ Gabbs after he miraculously survived a fall from the railing. Sure, I knew he liked her, but I was in denial that she liked him back. Especially since...I thought _I_ was the one she liked.

I wasn't really surprised when I found out Gabbs was a girl. It would explain why I thought I was crushing on a guy. It sure made a hell of a lot more sense. I wasn't upset she was a girl. I was upset that she didn't trust me enough to tell the truth to begin with. But I guess things happen sometimes without explanation. Like for instance, a couple of times I've seen Gabbs or Crutchie talking to themselves. But what was really strange about it, is that they seemed to be having a conversation. As if they were talking to someone that I couldn't see or hear. Weird, right? I mean, I would assume they had an imaginary friend or something like that, but that didn't seem to be the case. The way they spoke to these invisible people, it was in a very serious tone. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were talking to ghosts. But, I've never really believed in that kind of stuff.

Anyway, the governor wanted to celebrate our strike's successful victory as a reminder that you can accomplish anything with hard work or something like that. He decided to have a masquerade ball for the city of New York. Course, the only newsies going were the ones with dates. Smalls, a Bronx newsie, was going with Spot Conlon head of the Brooklyn newsies. Davey was going with his girl, Sadie Codwell. A Flushing newsie, Crow, who was released when the Refuge was shut down, asked City. And of course, Jack was attending with Ace. I decided after work today, I would ask Gabbs, still under the impression that she was not returning Crutchie's affections. The ball was this Saturday, so there was no time to second guess myself.

By the time, I sold all my papes, it was early evening. I walked to the lodge house, enjoying the silence, say for the tip-tap of my boots on the stone street. Suddenly, I heard someone yell, "Help! Please, help me!". I immediately recognized the voice as Crutchie's. I followed his terrified pleas until I found him. He was right to be scared. The poor crip's trouser leg was caught in the railroad tracks.

"Hang in dere, pal, I'll help ya's." I said, running to his rescue. I bent down and began fumbling with the stubborn fabric. Then a horrifyingly loud whistle rang through the air. At that moment, I frantically began searching my pockets for the box of matches I used to light my cigars.

"What are ya doin', Race?!"

"Savin' ya life, whatzit look like I'm doin'?" I pulled out a match and lit it quickly, then held it to the bottom of Crutchie's trousers until the threads caught on fire. "A'right", I said grabbing his arms. "I'll pull an you kick wit your good leg, got it?" Crutchie nodded. I looked up and saw the train coming around the bend. "NOW!" We went tumbling backwards away from the tracks. The train chugged off leaving us with an awful ring in our ears. I turned to my left. "You okay, Crutchie?" He lifted himself up with his crutch and checked everything.

"I tink I'm okay; jus has a few bruises is all. What about you?" Then a look of shock came over his face. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!" At that moment, I got the worst headache I've ever gotten. I reached a hand up where I felt warm blood dripping from a bruised bump on my forehead.

"Damn, dat's gonna leave a mark." I said, trying to stand up before falling backwards. "Ow!" I felt extremely dizzy.

"Oh boy, you'se don't look so good, Race. Race? Race?! Crutchie's voice began to echo and I slowly blacked out.

 **Sorry it's been forever since I posted. My mind has been elsewhere these past few months. Anyways, don't worry about Race too much. I didn't kill him off or anything. This is a different story than the last. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Don't forget to read, review, follow, and favorite. Keep calm and seize the day!**


	3. Act 3

**Act Three: Ouch3/A Familiar Face**

"Damn! dat hurts!" I yelled as Mush treated my wound.

"Don't exert yourself, Race." Mush told me. "You've suffered a min'ah concussion."

"Yeah, well you's weren't da one who got hit by a train!" I retorted.

"Even so, you's need ta keep still." he replied as calm as ever. Mush was pretty good at keeping calm in dire situations. Sure, he liked to crack a joke as much as the next newsie. But when it came to emergencies, Mush wasn't the one to panic. He wanted so bad to go to Medical School so he could become a doctor. But with the way they paid us newsies, that was a dream not meant to come true.

Finally, he began applying the bandages. As he tightly wrapped the cloth around my head, I shut my eyes tight, trying not to flinch. What can I say? It hurt like Hell!

"A'right, I'm done. Now do's me a fav'ah, an try ta take it easy the next couple days?"

"No promises." I stated, slowly getting up so I wouldn't get too dizzy.

"Just get some rest. Your body needs the energy ta heal itself."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I's don't need your school'n." But when it was lights out, I was out with them.

"How could you ask me ta do dat?!" I asked after we were done selling. It was only the next day, but I had to earn my money somehow.

"It'll only be for awhile, Race. Ya do's want your head ta get better, right? How'd you even get into smok'n cigars anyway? Don't ya know how bad it is for ya?"

"Look, Mush, I know's you's try'n ta help, but preachn' ta me doesn't. Help dat is."

"Ya didn't answer my question." he pushed. "Why do ya smoke cigars?"

"Mush, I swear, if you's don't back off right now,"

"I'm jus worried about ya, Race. We all are. I mean, as long as any o' us has known ya's, you've always smoked."

I sighed. "It's personal an I don't wanna talk about it."

"But,"

"No! Now drop it and leave it alone!" I shouted at him. Mush flinched, and it looked as if he were about to cry.

"Now dat's enough, Race!" We both turned and saw Jack marching up toward us. No doubt, he must have heard most, if not all of the conversation. "Mush is right. We only want what's best for ya. Don't yell at him, because I'm da one who told him ta get onto you's about your smoking. I tought he would be able ta reason wit you. But since dat ain't da case, I'm confiscat'n your cigars!"

"What?!"

"And, I'm handl'n your money until your head is better. I know you too well."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, no? Watch me!" He walked off and I tried to run after him. The dizziness set in and I staggered forward. Someone caught me and helped me up.

"Gabbs? What are _you's_ do'n here?"

"Crutchie wanted me to thank you for saving his life. And it just so happens, I heard the argument. You get really loud when you're angry."

"I guess I do."

"Look Race, I know it's hard but you're just gonna have to accept help when you need it. Even if you don't want it"

"C'mon, Gabbs. I've gotten lectures from both Mush _an_ Jack today. Da last ting I need's is a third one, especially from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I took a deep breath and held Gabbs' hand.

"Gabbs, will you's accompany me to da ball dis Saturday?" I didn't expect Gabbs to look at me the way did. She looked horrified. "I guess dat's a 'no' den."

"Look, Race, you're a great guy and all but... I don't like you that way. You're like my brother and it would be strange dating you because of that..."

"It's ok, I get it." I said bitterly. "A simple 'no' would have done the trick."

"Race, I am so sorry. Please don't be upset. If I weren't..."

"What? Dating Crutchie?"

"How'd you know?" her facial expression went from horrified to shocked.

"I may not be a genius but I'm not stupid either. He adores you. I jus didn't know da feel'n was mutual." I started walking away.

"Where are you going? The lodging house is this way." Gabbs pointed in the opposite direction.

"I know. I'se not go'n ta da lodge house."

"Where do you plan on sleeping then?"

"Anywhere else." I stormed off, feeling rejected and pissed beyond belief. 'Who needs them anyway?' I thought to myself.

As I walked, the city streetlamps flickered on. The sun was setting and stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. I went into Jacobi's Deli and sat at a table in the back. Someone came up to my table and sat across from me. I couldn't see their face because they wore a hooded cloak. Finally they broke the silence.

"I'se been watchn' ya, kid. Looks like you can really use a friend."

I squinted, trying to rack my brain. I knew I heard that voice before. The voice was male and it cracked a little, probably because he was a teenager. But what stood out was his speech impediment. It was like something was keeping his tongue from forming the worlds correctly. Almost as if his tooth was...no it couldn't be. The last time I saw Beaver, he was 15. He disappeared 6 years ago. I did the math in my head, then checked, then double checked. Beaver would be 21 now. There was no way this guy was who I thought he was. Yet, his voice matched Beaver's to a T. It couldn't be him, could it? Before I could dismiss the idea, the mush-mouth teen removed his hood. It was hard to miss the familiar curved buck-tooth. He looked the same as he did the day before he disappeared. It was him alright. It was Beaver.

 **Didn't expect that, did you? Let me know what you think. Don't forget to read, review, follow, favorite! See you in the next chapter!**


	4. Act 4

**Act Four: Broken Beaver**

"Where da heck has you been?" I half shouted half whispered. "And why do you still look like...you?"

Beaver looked down for a moment, as he fidgeted in his chair. I wondered why he was avoiding my question. And why it had made him so nervous. As if reading my mind, he finally spoke up, still not making eye contact.

"My dad found me shortly after da day I met you'se. He was a scientist, ya see? He dedicated most of his life ta finding a cure ta agin'. A way ta freeze time in a person, so's dat dey remain young foreve'ah. He was da reason I ran away from home. I figured life on da street was bett'ah den bee'in his guinea pig.

"But da day he found me, he had finally figured out a way. He strapped me ta a table an put a breathin' mask on my face. I saw da tank connected ta it had the radiation symbol on it. All I could do was watch as he turned da valve. But tanks to my pocket knife, I managed to cut da straps an escape." Beaver went quiet again and before continuing he began to nervously rub his temples. "He didn't care dat I was his son. Dat fact meant noting ta him. He only saw me as an opportunity. And so I had ta do it. I had ta do it so no one else would go trough what I did." Beaver started breathing heavily and he began to tremble.

"Beaver, what did you do?" I asked, not entirely sure I would like the answer. At that moment, Beaver looked me in the eye for the first time. I didn't like the look on his face. He was scared and I could tell whatever he did, must have affected him greatly. He wasn't the carefree kid I met on street all those years ago. No, that kid was gone and I knew I would never see him again.

"I... killed him." That was the moment when Beaver's flood gates opened and tears streamed down his face. He just sat there and hid his face, sobbing as softly as anyone who had a traumatic experience could. He began choking in between sobs and people were beginning to glare at me, as if I was the one causing Beaver all this pain. I gave them a nervous smile and tried comforting my old friend by softly patting him on the back.

"It's ok pal, don't cry. I know you're scared, but I'se here for ya's." Beaver nodded and began to calm the water works. He removed his hands, revealing a bright, red, and sticky face, damp with both tears and mucus. I gave him some napkins, and he cleaned his face before continuing.

"I destroyed my fadder's research by startin' a fire in da house. He didn't make it out alive. And now... I will live forev'ah wit his blood on my hands." he said as his gaze returned to the floor.

"Wait. What do you mean 'live forev'ah'?" Beaver looked up and shook his head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"What's dat spost ta mean? It can't be dat bad." Beaver sighed deeply before saying something I'll never forget.

"I'm immortal now, Race. I can't die." I could tell by the cold seriousness in his voice that Beaver was telling the truth. Still, it took me a while to wrap my mind around the idea.

"By immortal, ya mean like forev'ah and ev'ah, fountain o' youth immortal?" I asked. A slight nod was his answer. "So what is you gonna do now?"

"I don't know's. So faw you'se da only one who knows what happent. No one else can know. You have ta promise not ta tell anyone. Can you'se do dat?"

"O' course."

"I mean it Race! No one. Absolutely no one."

"Alright, alright; I promise not ta tell." A long, awkward silence followed. "So," I said bringing up my first question. "Why is you here?"

"Ta help you'se." Beaver replied.

"How?"

"By tellin' you'se ta move on. You should still go ta dat ball; jus go wit someone else."

"But, I really like Gabbs. Movin' on won't be dat easy." I protested.

"I know but, she's datin' Crutchie. You can't jus go ta da ball wit somebody elses girl."

"Unless...she doesn't know it's me!"

"What?"

"Look, it's a _masquerade_ ball, Beaver. I'll jus go an pretend ta be Crutchie!"

"But, he's already goin' wit her. You can't jus go up ta her an act like Crutchie when he's already dere. Surely she'd know who da real Crutchie is?"

"What if he wasn't dere?"

"Race, no. Don't be getting some hairbrained idea."

"What if I figured out a way ta keep Crutchie away from Gabbs during da ball?"

"Damnit, Race, would you'se listen ta me! It's a bad idea, don't do it!" But I completely ignored him.

"Dis has ta work."

"Race. You can't pretend ta be Crutchie forev'ah? Sooner or lat'ah, she's goin' ta figure out it's you!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Don't ya tink she'll be upset?"

"Nah, dis plan is fullproof." I told him as I got up and began walking out of the Deli.

"But, Race..."

"Don't worry, pal. Everyting will be jus fine."

"I'se not sure about dat..." Beaver sighed.

 **Heya guys! Here's Act 4 as promised. Sorry it took so long. A lot has happened this year and I've had a bad case of writer's block. Everything is good now and I will resume writing after the holidays. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year my fellow Fansies!**

 **Your friend, - Cara**


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